


distraction, sensation

by heart_nouveau



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies)
Genre: F/M, sex and bad decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heart_nouveau/pseuds/heart_nouveau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had nothing to do with Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	distraction, sensation

 

It had nothing to do with Steve.

 

The letter emblazoned ‘killed in action’ almost burned in her hands. Folding it neatly in half over the criminal letters, Peggy stood and left the mess hall abruptly, without a word, meeting no one’s eyes.

 

A world without Freddie in it was a world one step closer to the hell she’d been trying to grow inured to since she’d first been stationed on the front. When she thought of him, there were years of memories to choose from, but what always came to her were flashes of sunlight, summer, his rumpled hair and the messy schoolboy uniform that defied neatness even after a fresh wash. Freddie was grass stains, piles of books, the taste of his mouth on hers and the sweet feeling of release she’d felt that first time in his arms. Freddie was the way she’d cried when he’d gone into the army, though they’d already been apart for a year by then, and the translucent onionskin of the letters he’d sent her from the front long after their official separation. And now, he was gone.

 

She didn’t know what she would have done if she hadn’t run into Barnes hanging around her door, wearing that licentious smile he’d been trying with her ever since he’d first seen her with Steve. Maybe she would have written to her mother, trying to share some of the heavy weight that pressed on her chest like a stone. Maybe she wouldn’t have written her mother, trying to spare her just a bit more of the pain omnipresent in this bloody war’s every day. Her mother had loved Freddie like a child of her own. It didn’t matter. She’d hear the news from Freddie’s mother, anyhow; it was awful, inevitable, the way things were.

 

Who knew what Barnes had been expecting when he’d lazily swung around to face her, his face wearing an open smirk and an invitation? They were both surprised when she took that invitation, grabbing him roughly by the shirt collar. She locked her door and turned her mouth up for his kiss, letting him do what he’d been so clear about wanting, surrendering at least in body to the physical control he craved with her.

 

She tried not to think about Steve. She thought, vaguely, that Barnes might be trying to do the same. She’d seen the way Barnes looked at him now, after the serum, with that complicated mixture of confusion, jealousy, and regret. Barnes didn’t know what to do about Steve, that was for sure; but he’d seen his opening with Peggy, and he certainly knew his way around women. Peggy’s non-acknowledgement had only caused him to redouble his efforts. And now he’d gotten what he wanted, sliding his hands over Peggy’s breasts, sucking at the side of her neck, almost—but not quite—serving as the perfect distraction from the contents of her head.

 

She had been surprised how, after reading the letter, her first thought had been _No_ , and the second, following immediately, _Not Steve_. Steve’s incredible generosity of spirit was something she loved and admired yet also resented. She felt like she had to be the best version of herself around him, and it was exhausting. She sometimes imagined his idea of her transferred crookedly over her real self, like two dissimilar sketches on tracing paper. They had done nothing, not kissed, held hands, or even had a relationship-defining conversation, but their togetherness felt safe and suffocating in its eventuality. Hurrying back to her room, she’d dreaded more than anything the sound of his footfalls behind her, his voice calling out to ask what was wrong. Peggy shuddered and concentrated harder on the feeling of Barnes’s hands, his mouth, the hard planes of his body under her grip.

 

And it was certainly something, the sight of Barnes’s head between her legs, mouth working furiously, wet and red, with obvious enjoyment and the determination of a man who had something to prove. He had his own reasons for being here, and she didn’t particularly care. He kept his eyes on hers, smirking dissolutely. She arched her hips, hard, and pulled at his sleek, dark head, not caring about his comfort, but he just took it and kept going.

 

When she finished, panting, Barnes rose from his crouch at the side of the bed. She sat up instantly, aching for more, yanking at his zipper and helping him roll on the rubber. When he entered her, with a deep groan matching her own, Peggy arched her head against the pillow, focusing on the pure sensation.

 

“You like that, baby? ‘Sthat feel good?” The words fell from his mouth in a dirty, sinuous stream as he moved on top of her, hips rolling and snapping in perfect natural rhythm, one arm outstretched over her to grasp the headboard. He was good at this, too good. She slapped at his side irritatedly to make him shut up, grimacing. Barnes grinned, his mouth falling open to expose the glint of white teeth. “I know you love it, you’ve been eying me ever since you first saw me, haven’t you baby? You know you need a real man to give it to you, not that fuckin’ virgin Rogers.”

 

“That’s enough,” she spat, without real venom. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried fiercely to see only darkness as she came, but it was no use. Freddie. Freddie and Steve was all she saw.

 

Barnes rolled off of her and sprawled across the bed on his stomach, breath heaving. He didn’t touch her. Peggy stared at the ceiling, the tears she’d been fighting to keep back pooling in the corners of her eyes. She rested her hand on her stomach. Even though the room was dark, she saw golden light, sunshine.

 

Barnes raised his head a few inches off the bed and looked at her. His hair was damp with sweat, eyes red-rimmed, cupid’s-bow mouth stained with remnants of her lipstick. Breathing heavily, the muscles in his shoulders moving, he looked about as torn up as she felt.

 

She’d lied to herself a bit. Even in the depths of her unmoored state, she’d been curious to see if she was right. By the clear distress she’d caused Barnes by using just one well-placed finger to send him over the edge, she could tell that she was. She didn’t care.

 

“Get back to your barracks, soldier,” she said. She sat up to watch as Barnes dressed himself, obviously fighting to keep the consternation from his face. He was a beautiful man, really, she thought dispassionately, even when he looked this upset. “I don’t have to remind you that this will remain classified.” 

 

Barnes looked at her levelly, mouth trembling, before turning and leaving the room. The door closed behind him with a heavy click.

 

It had nothing to do with Steve.

 

It had everything to do with Steve. 


End file.
